


Love's Musketeer, Chapter 10

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Love's Musketeer [10]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Read the series notes!, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-10
Updated: 2003-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We meet up with D'Artagnan again and find him in the company of a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Musketeer, Chapter 10

D'Artagnan blindly stumbled over unseen obstacles as cruel hands pushed him down a long passageway. There was the recognizable screech of rusty metal as a door was forced opened but before the Musketeer could take a step forward, one of his escorts gave a swift jab to his lower back and shoved him inside, the excruciating pain dropping D'Artagnan to his knees. 

A fist cuffed him just before the hood was ripped from his head and he momentarily saw stars. Blinking furiously to clear his vision, he watched as the ropes around his wrists were carelessly slashed, the blade slicing a crimson path across his forearm. His injury was greeted with a contemptuous laugh, followed by a hard kick to his butt and, suddenly, D'Artagnan found himself sprawled face down in a pile of damp, foul-smelling straw. 

The withdrawal of light and the clank of metal against metal signaled the departure of the young Musketeer's tormentors and, for a moment fear paralyzed him, pinning his trembling body to the floor. A single cry escaped his lips as he clawed at the dirt floor beneath him. 

"Athos." 

The image of his brave and courageous lover bolstered D'Artagnan's resolve, giving him the strength to upright his sorely protesting body. His eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, a pale ray of sunlight from a window high above his head his only illumination. It was only a moment before the silence was broken by a choked gasp, the sound tore from D'Artagnan once he comprehended the reality of his surroundings. 

A prison cell . . . the bruised and wounded Musketeer found himself locked in a prison cell. 

He moved quickly to the small window and ignoring the pain in his injured shoulder, grabbed the steel bars and pulled himself up. The view of the recognizable landscape sent a chill of foreboding down his spine as D'Artagnan stared out the window. And the longer he looked at the high walls that ran as far as the eye could see, the longer his mind refused to believe he was being held a prisoner in the Tower of London. 

A single tear escaped down his cheek as D'Artagnan let go of the bars and collapsed upon the meagerly filled straw pallet lying beneath the window. He whispered a prayer to the Almighty, pleading for divine intervention. Finished with his heavenly supplication, D'Artagnan's heart took up the plea, calling out to his Athos. 

The long-haired youth withdrew inside himself, warming his frightened soul with cherished memories of his lover. Several hours passed before his weary body finally capitulated, succumbing to an overwhelming state of mental and physical exhaustion. Clutching a threadbare blanket to his chest, D'Artagnan closed his eyes and slept. 

Agonizing cries ripped through the morning's silence and the sounds jerked D'Artagnan out of a restless sleep. He rubbed his bleary eyes and combed his fingers through his tangled curls as he struggled to sit up. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he stood and dusted off his tunic as best as possible, smiling slightly at the thought of seeing Aramis again and the horrified expression that would come over his friend's face the moment he got a look at the state D'Artagnan's uniform was in. He could almost hear the peacock-ish Musketeer, reminding them all that... _'A soldier does not have to look like a soldier. We are all gentlemen and, thus, should dress as such.'_

D'Artagnan was startled from his thoughts by a cultured English voice. "Good morning, Monsieur. I believe I have the honor of addressing the renowned D'Artagnan." 

The Musketeer searched the dark confines of his cell for several seconds before discovering a cloaked individual standing in the shadows. "You must excuse me, my Lord. You have me at a disadvantage. It seems you know who I am. Dare I ask you allow me the same privilege?" 

The shadowy visitor chuckled and moved forward, the feeble beam of sunlight revealing his features. 

D'Artagnan gasped with surprise and stumbled backwards, unable to believe the identity of the man who stood before him. 

_Mon dieu! The Duke of Buckingham!_

The young man's boot connected with the edge of his cot and he tilted backwards, his astonishment causing him to loose his balance. Strong, elegant hands caught him, pulling him into a brief embrace before releasing. 

"Now that you know who stands before you, please, young Gascon, tell me why I should not call for the executioner? The accusations brought against you are quite impressive." England's ambassador removed his cloak, revealing a slender frame garbed in simple garments. Brushing errant strands of dark chestnut away from his face, the Duke made himself comfortable on a nearby stool and, with a wave of his hand, instructed the bewildered Musketeer that he should also take a seat. 

"Let us not stand when we can sit and discuss this as gentlemen." Reaching across the distance between them, the older man gathered D'Artagnan's hand in his own, his gloved fingers stroking a soothing path across the youth's trembling palm. "Having seen you face to face, I, for some reason, find myself unable to believe the tales that have been conveyed to me by your highly revered Cardinal." 

Intent in his inspection of the Musketeer's features, the Duke lifted D'Artagnan's chin and stared deeply into his eyes, discerning the unspoken truth of the lad's character. His fingers traced a slow path across D'Artagnan's cheek, grazing the outer edges of his mouth before tracing the lines of his jaw and neck. 

Satisfied with his assessment of the Musketeer, he leaned back and asked. "Tell me, Monsieur, why have you been labeled a threat to my sovereign and why does the Cardinal wish for your immediate death?" 

D'Artagnan's mouth fell open, his mind grappling with the outrageous allegation. A warm chuckle greeted his astonishment and the Duke gently tapped on his chin, alerting him to his pose. D'Artagnan snapped his mouth shut with a vengeance. Anger quickly replaced confusion and he shook himself loose from the older man's grip. Jumping up, he began to pace his narrow cell, his hands gesturing wildly, his tousled curls whipping around his animated face as he related the events leading to his kidnapping. 

D'Artagnan's voice strengthened with confidence as he explained Rochefort's lustful contempt for the Musketeers. He recounted all to the silent Duke, even to the point of revealing the Cardinal's hatred of his beloved Athos. 

"I fear, my Lord, I am just a pawn in the Cardinal's plan of revenge. He is a bitter man, intent on destroying my Captain. He seeks full retribution for the death of his lover." 

Buckingham left his seat, moving to stand next to the young Musketeer. "I am still confused as to why the Cardinal would involve you in his vindictiveness. He has gone to great lengths to insure your death. Please enlighten me, dear boy." 

The English ambassador stepped closer, his dark eyes questioning. "The truth is most imperative. Your life hangs in the balance." 

D'Artagnan blushed as he turned away, hiding his face from the astute gaze before him. He lifted his face to the narrow beacon of light shining into his cell and slid his hand inside his tunic, sheltering his beating heart. 

"My Captain and I...." D'Artagnan's voice whispered into the silence, his words barely discernable. "We are lovers, Monsieur." 

The Duke laid a gentle hand on D'Artagnan's shoulder and steered the youth so that he could see his face. "Pardon?" 

D'Artagnan looked up, his sky blue eyes stormy with unspoken emotions, his voice catching slightly. "Athos and I are lovers." 

"Damn!" Buckingham pulled the youth into an understanding embrace, his hands caressing the thick strands of mahogany hair that fell down his back. "This is indeed a royal mess." The Duke released D'Artagnan and guided him to the vacant stool. Gathering his cloak, Buckingham moved to the cell's entrance and signaled an unseen attendant. "We leave immediately," he whispered. Turning back to the seated lad, he smiled and allowed himself another touch of the satin curls. _How soft, how lovely it would be to feel...._ With a silent curse, Buckingham restrained his attraction for the innocent Musketeer and forcibly removed his hand from temptation. 

"Do not worry, dear boy." The Duke knelt before D'Artagnan. "I refuse to allow Richelieu to embroil me in his own petty affairs. It's bad enough he thinks I will be part of his plot to overthrow your King. If he believes he can further play me for a fool, he is sorely mistaken." 

Buckingham cupped the side of D'Artagnan's bruised face, his gaze serious with his intent. "Allow me two days and I will have you back safely in the arms of your lover. Until then, I must leave you here in this squalor, pretending that you are the condemned criminal Richelieu has declared you to be. I am sorry but it is for your own safety. If it will calm your fears any, please know that my personal guard will be outside your cell, protecting you from any that would wish you harm." 

The ambassador stumbled backwards when D'Artagnan rushed forward, embracing him so tight he could hardly draw breath. 

"You are my savior, my Lord. Merci." 

Buckingham laughed softly as he pulled away. Securing his cloak, he turned to the opening door, his countenance lapsing into a brooding solemnness. "Do not sing my praises yet, young D'Artagnan. I fear the Cardinal may have a grasp that reaches farther than either one of us can imagine. We will declare victory only when you have been returned to your beloved Captain." 

The English ambassador took one final look at the handsome Musketeer, memorizing his youthful beauty. "Adieu, my dear boy. Pray to your God for His guidance and protection... for yourself and for me. We shall surely need it." 

A silent darkness surrounded D'Artagnan after Buckingham departed and he immediately sank to his knees in order to offer up a humble prayer. With his heart beseeching the angels, D'Artagnan lifted his face heavenward, a trembling smile of hope on his face. 

"Athos, my love. Hold true to your faith. I will be with you soon." 

* * *

End

**Author's Note:**

> Cast of characters: Athos-Jim, D'Artagnan-Blair, Porthos-Simon, Aramis-Rafe, King Louis-OC, Phillipe, King's consort-OC, Cardinal Richelieu-Garett Kincaid, Rochefort-Lee Brackett, Duke of Buckingham-Stephen Ellison, Henri Phillipe-Henri Brown, Lady de Winter-Carolyn Plummer, Rogert-OC 
> 
> 1\. This is set in a GAY universe. Most every character is GAY.  
> 2\. If you're looking for a work of literary excellence with in-depth plots and insightful thoughts from the characters, you're in the wrong place.  
> 3\. Please remember this series was written purely for fun! Romance and sex, with a little sword play thrown in for good measure--that's the way I wrote it.


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